I wandered tonight in the first snow of the season, setting out from my little cottage in the woods to our small downtown. Although I had worried throughout the day about a questionable commute home, once there and bundled up my trepidation turned to elation.
The world reversed out, snowy trees lit by streetlamps, white on black, on 1800's streets, everywhere looked like an old photograph. Few cars were on the road, and no pedestrians- the middle of the blanketed streets were mine to crunch, my footsteps creating a percussive heartbeat for the blacktop below. Inhaling the slightly metallic scent of newly frozen air, I bent my face toward the black skies and let the descending flakes collect on my eyelashes, my cheeks reddened from exertion meeting ice, feeling like a time traveler.
How beautiful to wander back down my lonely road, only the sound of my steps echoing across the newly fallen plane, and all the branches overhead hanging low with icing like gingerbread eaves.
